


Free of Guilt or Shame

by Elfflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Community: daily_deviant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco tries not to think when he's with his uncle. But Rodolphus makes that very difficult to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free of Guilt or Shame

**Author's Note:**

> Seems dark, but it's not. The dub-con is more that Ro won't take no for an answer, if Draco could even manage the word. ;) For my sweet Kit, without whom this wouldn't have been possible. Much love to you, sweetie. Title paraphrased from the cut text, which is from The Whole Shebang by Grant Lee Buffalo from Velvet Goldmine.

So long as Draco doesn't think, it's fine. He knows he shouldn't be here, with his uncle. Shouldn't enjoy this as much as he does. He knows that his father and aunt would start a war beyond even the Dark Lord's control, and bring the Manor down around all of their ears.

But Rodolphus doesn't care. He wants Draco to think. So he talks. He loves the way it makes him whimper and writhe for him.

"Just a little slut, aren't you?" he purrs, and Draco feels his cheeks heat once more, turning his face away to hide the flush. But Rodolphus won't let him. He catches his chin, turning his face back, squeezing his mouth open. "You know you want it, boy. Open up. Show me that wicked tongue."

Always, Draco does what he is told, in hopes that Rodolphus might stop the flow of erotic, dark words that made his skin prickle with anticipation and dread. It never does, though.

"That's it, boy…take it. Take it all…" Rodolphus's cock was larger than any he'd ever sucked on before, but that doesn't stop him from pushing as deep as he can into Draco's mouth, telling him what a good cocksucker he is, how he was made for this, all while Draco struggles to take every inch, terrified that the air will stop completely with the next pass, and yet, at the same time, feeling his own cock swell more with each thrust Rodolphus makes.

Draco can't think of who he should be when he does this. He only thinks about the next moment, the next feeling, the next order. It makes things simpler. Because he wants this. He can't usually admit it to himself, but he does. He feels it the second he feels his uncle's eyes on him at a meeting, or hears his voice, that husky rasp he has left over from his time in Azkaban. He can't help but imagine what Rodolphus will make him do next.

Even when he should be thinking about keeping his pride, like a good Malfoy.

So when Rodolphus comes to his room at night, he can't think. He just reacts; lays there and takes whatever Rodolphus does to him. Even the dark flow of words that makes it impossible not to think.

And he loves every moment, even the words. He loves being stripped forcibly until he can no longer hide the flush creeping down his neck, or how his nipples are standing out, waiting to be abused. Or just how hard the thought of what Rodolphus will do to him next makes him.

Rodolphus loves to push his limits. To see how far Draco will let him go. Draco hasn't stopped him yet. He knows there are few things that would prompt him to do so, though he hasn't told his uncle that. He's scared even to mention those things, for fear that Rodolphus might take them as an invitation. Would his uncle mark him with that dagger he loves so much, the one he keeps right next to his wand on his belt? The thought is almost enough to stop him from speaking, and the thought that Rodolphus might do so if he were to mention it makes him pray that he will never think of it himself.

Usually, Rodolphus's desires are much simpler. What he seems to enjoy most is to coat Draco with his come, inside and out. Once in his mouth, once on his face, and once in his arse. Sometimes Draco wonders if this isn't all pent up lust from his time in Azkaban, that the man can come so many times in a night, despite his age.

And the whole time he fucks Draco, he never seems to stop. "Such a hot piece of arse…is this what your father used you for before our Lord returned? Bribing those who liked a pretty catamite for the night?"

Draco's cock twitches at the suggestion even as Rodolphus's fingers push into him with little warning. It doesn't matter. After the first night, and the way Rodolphus had breeched him after only a single slicking spell, Draco made sure to keep slicked and stretched on the nights he knew Rodolphus would be here. When he wasn't out on a mission for their Lord. Or at home with his wife. Or someone else.

Instead of screaming, like he is sure his uncle wants, he shakes his head. He knows that if he doesn't answer at all, Rodolphus will only redouble his efforts.

"No? Did daddy keep you all to himself, then? This sweet, tight arse around his scrawny cock?"

Draco has to hide his face at that image, and at the insult. The first leaves him barely holding back tears at a thought that Rodolphus had now deeply planted in his mind, because he was sure he'd never dreamed of his father before Rodolphus had suggested the idea. But now he does. He dreams of Lucius taking him, then Rodolphus, and sometimes, it's all of the Death Eaters, one after another, fucking him until he's sore, coated with come inside and out, too weak to move, and the world is spinning around him. Then he wakes up, harder than he can ever remember being, nearly in tears that he can't have that, can't be used that way. Because father would never do that, never allow it. He would kill them both first.

The insult, well, he's used to those, though they are far more vulgar when they are alone like this, and Draco isn't sure if Rodolphus is trying to anger him, or just letting loose some of the venom he feels for Lucius, not even caring what Draco might think.

He knows that whatever Rodolphus thinks about his father, it doesn't seem to bother him that Draco looks so much like him. He sometimes wonders if Rodolphus wanted him at some point, but couldn't have him, or if it's only that the fact that Draco looks so much like him means he is actually conquering Lucius himself somehow. He doubts he'll ever know for certain, but he can't stop wondering.

At least, not until Rodolphus's cock fills him in one thrust. It hurts. But now he's used to the feeling, and after a few thrusts, it feels good. Sometimes, when he's pleased Rodolphus especially well, he even aims for his prostate, and then Draco couldn't think if he wanted to, the world filling with flashes of pleasure and light, fireworks just for him to see, and one that usually sends him over the edge with only a few thrusts, his body shuddering and clenching around his uncle's cock.

The nights when Rodolphus feels he hasn't been abused enough, he goes slow, keeping Draco just on the edge until he's crying with frustration. Then the flow of words never lets up until his thrusts increase, his hips slamming deep into Draco with each thrust, and Draco's cries fill the room. Just when Draco is sure he can't take any more, that's when he feels Rodolphus come again, deep inside him.

Those nights, Rodolphus rolls off him, then takes his cock in hand. He strokes it roughly until Draco is crying from the sensation, and only then does he allow him to come. All the while, his voice is soft in Draco's ears telling him how he'll never have better.

Afterward, Draco is usually too exhausted to notice him leave. He often wakes some hours later, crusted in come and other fluids, legs still dangling over the side of the bed, bruises along his hips and the insides of his thighs, bite marks everywhere. He cleans himself up, but keeps the marks for as long as he can. Until he knows someone will see them if he does not. Then he heals them again, already anticipating the next time.  



End file.
